A/N: It's a double update today. Don't miss the second chapter. Reviews for both chapters are highly appreciated ;)
She exhaled sharply, her shoulders jumping up, and he saw her lower her hands, balled in tight fists.
"And of course here you are, standing and glaring at my back, too irritated to say anything, but too stubborn to leave."
That was an astute observation - and an irksome one.
"Does he enjoy your dissecting his every thought and move?" Thorin sneered.
She whipped her head. He saw the tense expression - but then a small smile touched her lips.
"No, not particularly," she answered. "I assume he just had gotten used to it. It's a price for having chosen an unfitting wife."
"I doubt that he… That anyone considers you an unfitting wife," Thorin muttered; and her smile grew wider.
"Oh, don't be coy now. Of course you do." She shook her head. "You're forgetting I've been married to you for over a dozen years. I can bet my best surgical tools you've been asking yourself how it was possible that a woman of Men, with no family tree and any valuable skill was on the throne of Erebor. And I bet there was a nickname. Or at least a constant unflattering comparison."
He clenched his teeth, in acute unease.
"What was it, Thorin?" she drew out. "A cold fish? A twig? A sickly Elfling?"
There was no malice in her jibing; if anything she looked… sad. Thorin had never been good at distinguishing subtle shades of emotions - and had never been inclined to spend time on the pursuit.
"Oh don't worry, I am not offended. I have heard it all. It took me years to be accepted by our people, including the servants in the household." She walked to the desk and picked up her cup. She didn't drink, just looked down into the tea. "At least I'd always felt I had your support… but what good does it make to think of it now?" she finished quietly. "Either you will remember, or… we'll have to learn to avoid each other more skillfully."
"I was not the one avoiding my spouse," Thorin felt he needed to remind her.
"Perhaps, you should start," she threw back at him and took a sip of tea. "I'm certain all this scowling and stormy frowning isn't good for you. Since I repel you so much..."
"You don't repel me!" Thorin snapped. He wasn't going to interrupt her, but her odd listless tone made him see red. "I admit it took some time getting used to the whole idea of a wife from Men, but..."
He froze, his mouth open. But what? What was he to say? That he saw that she was a good wife? A good Queen? That it was obvious that his people loved and cherished and respected her? That his household ran smoothly in her hands? That he could see in his papers and letters that his Kingdom obviously benefitted from her diplomacy, when it came to the alliances with the Elves and the Men?
And that he was starting to see why he, the Thorin she knew, would marry her? And that how curious he felt, how exciting her hints and jesting intimations now felt - now that he'd had just a bit of taste?
It wasn't possible but it felt that he still could taste the kiss on his lips.
"But you never change you decisions," she finished his sentence, and gave out a small bitter laugh. "So you will now accept that you're stuck with me, and we should… make the best of it."
He stared at her.
"I'm tired, Thorin," she said quietly. "I haven't eaten all day, and… you don't know it but hunger and exhaustion affect me. I can't think straight. So, we could perhaps postpone this discussion."
She indeed looked wan; so he nodded, said his goodbyes, and left for the bedchamber. He didn't have any appetite - or perhaps, yet another dinner in an empty, dead silent room was just not something he was up for - so he just went to sleep.
A week passed in quite the same way; and then finally the inventory in the infirmary was over. Thorin made sure to be discreet and lead Brori into a conversation about it without the secretary guessing that Thorin was waiting for it.
He then visited the Erebor library, and found a volume of Shahnel Bakhan. He studied the book. It was thick and unnecessarily wordy, but he decided to limit his reading to the relevant chapters.
Some of the details in the book were confusing - and some were so obviously outdated that it took him two days of careful planning and sorting through chapters to conjure a plan.
He then had to employ the secretary to arrange the small details - and most important somehow to avoid choking the ridiculously lively Dwarf who seemed disproportionately excited about the tasks placed on him.
And then the evening came.
She came into the parlour, in the same fern green dress he knew she wore in the infirmary when stocking cupboards, with a white apron over it.
"Thorin, Brori told me you wished to..." she stopped mid-sentence and gawked at the table laid in the middle of the room. "What is this?"
"Dinner. Zudramenkhem to be precise," he answered. "The Dinner of Three Plates. I know it is to take place when a couple just starts their wedded life; but in a sense that is where we are."
Her eyes ran the dishes; and then she slowly looked up at him.
The pride and the tentative excitement he was feeling were gone an instant later - when she burst into laughter. This time there was cold venomous note to her frolics.
"Mahal help me, did you look it up in the book, in Shahnel Bakhan?!" she gasped out between more and more roaring.
Suddenly, what he had considered a sound and inventive plan was looking less and less sound - and not at all inventive since she'd just seen right through it.
"What an absurd idea!" she exclaimed. "Half of these dishes are inedible; the rest are greasy and heavy! And the point of eating the mushrooms, and the pine nuts, and the pumpkin seeds is to stimulate the libido in the couple..."
And then she stopped.
Thorin was starting to feel more and more disconcerted.
"Are you… Were you trying to… Mahal forbid, seduce me?" she drew out in disbelief. And the she exclaimed, before he opened his mouth, "No, no, don't answer this! That was a mad idea. The sheer possibility of the words 'Thorin Oakenshield' and 'seduce' used in the same sentence is something out of the realm of fairy tales!"
She pushed her hands into her hair and pulled at the bright orange springs.
"Goodness me, what a pandemonium," she said, and jerked at her hair couple more times. "I'm sure you had some reason to assume it would be a favourable proceeding..."
"You said we should make the best of our current situation," he muttered, losing the rest of his confidence.
With doubt always came anger - so he clenched his teeth and asked himself why he had even thought that the woman was worth any of the efforts.
"Have I?" she asked in a suddenly sincere voice.
He looked up and saw her widened eyes.
"It doesn't sound like something I'd say, because…" she trailed away.
Thorin saw red.
"Because what? Why would you not say that?" he barked and took a step towards her. She immediately jerked her chin up defiantly.
"Because I don't think any good can come out of it."
"And why is that? Am I not worthy of you now? Not good enough? Not a war hero? Not the King you married?" he roared.
He couldn't understand why the thought hurt so much.
"How dare you?!" she screamed back, looking just as enraged as he felt. "None of this matters to me! Neither your titles, nor your wealth!"
"What then? Why did you marry me? Him! Why did you marry him?!"
"Because I was in love with him!"
He saw tears burst out of her eyes, but her face was glowing with the same fury.
"I loved him, and now he is gone!"
"We are the same man! He… I am here," Thorin said; and suddenly his anger deflated.
And so it seemed had hers. Her lips quivered.
"You look at me like at a stranger," she said. Tears drew streaks down her cheeks.
"You aren't looking at me at all," he answered quietly.
"I do, but all I see..." She swallowed, and he saw her throat move. "All I see is the familiar face and..."
"My memory might never return," he said; and her red mouth twisted in a painful grimace.
"Don't say it," she whispered. "I can't lose… my husband."
"I am your husband," he said again.
"It is not a title, Thorin. It is an… occupation." She smiled through tears. "And it took us years to become good at it."
"You mean, it took me years," he grumbled; and she softly touched his sleeve on the upper arm.
Their eyes met; and he saw faint mischievous light in her eyes.
"Believe me, I also haven't always been the exemplar wife I am right now."
A warm, somewhat apologetic smile trembled in the corners of her lips.
"Hard to believe," he grumbled; and she laughed shakily.
She stepped back from him, and looked under her feet.
"Thorin, I have to ask… was this dinner… was it about… well, marital duties?" she asked, and he saw her cheeks flush with faint blush.
Thorin's spine grew rigid like a languet of a battle axe.